


the armor upon you now

by ForFighting



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dallas Stars, M/M, sort of psychic abilities?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:31:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForFighting/pseuds/ForFighting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was going to be a one-shot porn with vague plot, and it's become a whole universe in my head, so I guess more is coming. Other pairings, characters, and teams are in the works, since there's actually a plot now, but I just tagged this with what's in here so far. </p>
<p>This obviously takes place in an universe where wives and children and such of the guys concerned do not exist. Nobody is doing any homewrecking.</p>
<p>If you got here by googling your own name (c'mon, dude, you gotta know that's not a good idea), or the name of anybody you know and/or are close to, please please turn back now.</p>
<p>Title for the fic and the chapter are both taken from "I Am Your Skin" by The Bravery, which is basically the theme song of this entire concept.</p>
    </blockquote>





	the armor upon you now

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a one-shot porn with vague plot, and it's become a whole universe in my head, so I guess more is coming. Other pairings, characters, and teams are in the works, since there's actually a plot now, but I just tagged this with what's in here so far. 
> 
> This obviously takes place in an universe where wives and children and such of the guys concerned do not exist. Nobody is doing any homewrecking.
> 
> If you got here by googling your own name (c'mon, dude, you gotta know that's not a good idea), or the name of anybody you know and/or are close to, please please turn back now.
> 
> Title for the fic and the chapter are both taken from "I Am Your Skin" by The Bravery, which is basically the theme song of this entire concept.

When you’ve been on a team as long as Trevor has, you start to pick up on things that other people might not, even other people who have the same abilities. He’s absorbed so much from the other guys, gotten so used to the way they feel, that the little fluctuations get easier to pick up. It’s easy to share in emotions without taking an undue portion of them upon himself, and he’s learned to embrace it.  

Trevor never takes anything from the guys that they don’t ask him to, and they never ask. Being a taker isn’t as big of a thing as the media likes to make it out to be (neither is being a giver, for that matter). It’s not like he can’t control it. He doesn’t go around draining emotions off the entire team and bearing them all on his back; it’s more of a constant awareness of the general emotional state of his teammates. If anything, it helps him say the right things, be there when he’s needed, even if all that’s needed of him is a hand on a shoulder or a reassuring smile.

A lot of the media people like to blow it out of proportion. There are two sides of it, like there are most things; you’ve got the people who like to make takers out to be martyrs, selflessly bearing all the emotions of their teams and fighting through it like champions. Then there’s the other side, who like to make it sound like takers are unstable, unfocused, unable to keep their mind in the game because they’re being constantly assaulted by emotions that aren’t their own. In reality, it’s not really either of those things.

If Trevor thinks about it, he supposes it’s mostly a good thing. He can read people, figure out when they’re hotheaded and more likely to let him lure them into a stupid penalty. But the only time during games he ever really lets himself take in anything off the guys is when they score. When they score, there’s so much surplus emotion floating around that he can drink it in, bask in the warm, happy glow of the elation that bubbles up from his teammates.

Trevor is the only taker, but there are two givers on the team, Tyler and Kari. Tyler makes a point to find Trevor on the ice if they’re both on for a goal, because he can give and give to the other guys but for a giver, there’s nothing quite as good as a person who has the ability to absorb everything you're putting out.

Trevor asks Tyler about it once, asks what it's like, because he's curious.

"It's like...I can give to anybody, and it's good, but it's like...layering it on top of what's already there. When it's somebody like you, though, it's like...there's a place to put it." Tyler tells him. “Does that make sense?”

It does make sense, in the same way that taking from a giver always feels a little better, a little easier, to Trevor than it does with anybody else. He's never put much thought into it, he just knows it to be true.

Kari isn’t as open about it as Tyler is. Then, Kari isn’t as loud as Tyler is to begin with, but he's especially quiet about it around Trevor. Trevor doesn't blame him, he knows a lot of people are a little uneasy around takers. He thinks that if their situations were reversed, the way he feels about Kari would probably keep him in a constant state of paranoia over whether Kari could feel the adoration pouring off of him any time they touch.

But in general, Kari probably gives a little more than Tyler does. He doesn’t even know if Kari means to do it, but he’s like a fucking lighthouse; when he’s happy, everyone knows it, not just Trevor, because it’s blinding, crowding out anything negative and leaving behind just the warmth of happiness. Kari gives off so much light and positivity that Trevor wonders how he doesn’t make himself sick on it.

After they lose to the Preds, Kari isn’t shining anymore. He’s still smiling; Trevor can’t remember a time when Kari couldn’t muster up even the smallest smile for the team. But it’s all external, and Trevor can feel it, because there’s something else there instead of the usual light that Kari puts off. It’s much darker than anything he’s used to feeling from Kari, and it’s a tangled mess of a lot of different things, feelings Trevor is well used to detecting after losses. There’s sadness and anger, those are the usual ones, but there’s also a lot of self-loathing and some other things that make Trevor feel like he’s eavesdropping on a conversation Kari is having with himself.

“Is he alright?” A droplet of water lands on Trevor’s forehead, and he looks away from Kari, looks up to his left side to see Jamie, wet from the shower, wearing sweatpants and rubbing a towel over his hair. Jamie nods towards Kari, who isn’t looking at either of them.

Jamie has no extra abilities at all, but he’s good at reading people anyway. Not as good as Trevor is, but that’s why he comes to Trevor at times like this, when he needs to check in on somebody and knows he can’t do it on his own. Trevor watches Kari for another few seconds, then shakes his head.

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “I want to...I’m going to take him home.”

Jamie nods, and the concern twisted into his own disappointment dies down a little.

“Good,” he says, “let me know if you need anything.”

Trevor finishes getting dressed, and lingers, gives a couple of quotes, but mostly just waits while Kari is being interviewed. Jamie’s off with Tyler in a corner, and Tyler has his hand on Jamie’s elbow. Trevor doesn’t try to feel anything from the two of them, that feels like private property that he shouldn’t trespass on, so he just waits until Kari is done.

“I’m taking you home,” he tells Kari. He feels the flare of stubborn refusal before Kari even answers, and shakes his head. “Come on. Don’t fight me on this.”

Kari sighs, jams his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, and puts his head down.

“Okay,” he says quietly.

The drive to Kari’s place is quiet, or at least, neither of them says anything out loud. There’s plenty of noise in Trevor’s head to make up for it, though. There are waves and waves of emotion coming off of Kari, and Trevor knows he’s not even trying to give off anything, but Kari is tired and he’s not holding it in the way Trevor knows he’s capable of doing under normal circumstances. He's not sure he's ever felt Kari this loud, this complex. Kari never gives off anything negative, never projects anything intentionally that isn't sheer, blinding positivity, at least he's never, ever done it around Trevor. It's worrying.

He parks in the driveway at Kari’s house and takes the key out of the ignition, and there’s a brief moment of quiet where the only sound is the tic-tic of the engine cooling off. Trevor lifts his hand, holding his keys, and reaches towards Kari but ends up thinking better of it and gets out of the car instead.

Kari doesn’t ask him if he wants to come inside, they both know Trevor didn’t drive him home to drop him off in the driveway and leave. He unlocks the door, and gestures for Trevor to go in first.

“Do you want water, anything?” he asks. Trevor shakes his head.

“I’m good.” he says.

“Just come here to see me fall apart?” Kari asks. The words are bitter, but there’s no malice behind them. Trevor’s not sure Kari’s glad he’s here, but he isn’t detecting anything that indicates otherwise.

“I was kind of hoping to help you avoid that.”

Kari sits down on the floor in front of his couch, and Trevor takes a seat on the couch beside him.

“I know you want to, but I can’t,” Kari says. Trevor is already shaking his head, but Kari keeps going. “I can’t let you do that. Can I just sit for a minute?”

“Sure.” Trevor swallows hard and puts a hand on Kari’s head. That’s a mistake because physical contact always makes it so much easier to sense the emotion buzzing under somebody’s skin. He can feel it there, he can feel the depth of it, the raw, toxic darkness of disappointment and the pressure Kari’s been putting on himself. There’s something else, deeper down, harder to read without probing, that feels familiar but...out of place, like Trevor’s known it in another context but can’t quite put a finger on it.

“Please let me do this for you,” he says. “I want to. I can take it.” The words have a double meaning - he can literally take it, but he’s also certain that he’s strong enough to deal with it when he does. He won’t take anything from Kari unless he asks for it, though, it’s not just considered bad manners to take without asking; it’s also absolutely against his own personal code of ethics. People should be able to decide what they do with their own emotions, even if it means holding them in to an unhealthy extent. That’s not Trevor’s decision to make for Kari, even if it’s killing him to watch Kari sit there and keep it all inside him.

“Please,” Trevor says again, and Kari makes a pained, unhappy noise. Trevor gets down on the floor in front of him, scoots up onto his knees so he’s knelt between Kari’s feet. “Kari, please look at me.”

Kari does, he looks up and meets Trevor’s eyes, and he looks hollow. For a moment, Trevor’s not sure he hasn’t unwittingly started taking some of Kari’s pain off of him, but when he clears his head he realizes that no, that’s all his own, that’s just the way seeing Kari in pain makes him feel. Whatever he could possibly take from Kari, he thinks, couldn’t be as bad as watching him like this.

“Yeah,” Kari says finally, letting his breath out. “Just the once. I don’t want you doing it...more.”

Trevor nods easily.

“You know I’m not ever gonna take anything you don’t give me,” he says. It’s a promise, but it’s a request, too. Trevor can take things off of other people whether they give it to him or not, but it’s all on him to do it, they don’t really have any control over what he takes and what he doesn’t. Kari does, he can send as much in Trevor's direction as he wants, more than Trevor could take away on his own. Trevor’s asking, and he hopes Kari picks up on it, for Kari to go into this with him.

Kari looks uncertain.

"You can take...a little, just to kill it, the edge of it."

Trevor shakes his head.

"I can take it all, c'mon." He holds his hands out, fingertips spread, and Kari leans forward. Trevor takes that as the go-ahead, and rests his fingertips on the sides of Kari's head.

There is a difference between knowing what somebody’s feeling and actively taking it into yourself. Trevor knows what people are feeling a lot of the time, but he doesn’t feel it himself unless he actually makes an effort to draw it in. That’s what he does now, he concentrates on the negative feelings, like he’s drawing poison out of a wound, and he pulls them into himself.

It’s not quite the same, feeling somebody else’s feelings. The things Kari is feeling...well, they suck, and Trevor really feels the full power of them once he pulls them in, but they have a different flavor than the things he feels himself. He takes it in, he draws his fingers over Kari’s head, threading through the soft spikes of his hair, keeping the contact light but firm.

He feels it when Kari starts to give back, when he really embraces the link between them and pushes things out instead of just letting Trevor drain it off. It hits him hard, makes his chest feel too small for his heart, like something inside him is being crushed. Trevor bites down on his lower lip, centers himself on the pain, and keeps going.

“Open your eyes, look at me,” he says, and Kari does. Trevor takes and takes, sorting through the feelings and fighting them down one after another with positive memories dragged up from his own past. Kari’s disappointment over this game, he takes it and wraps it up in the elation of scoring right before the buzzer at the end of the second, paints over it with that happiness until it’s cooled to nothing. Kari’s desperate feeling of not being good enough, of wishing he had enough in him to start every game; Trevor takes that and tries to tie it down with the pride and affection he felt when Kari shut out the Coyotes. It’s not enough, he wants it to be enough, and he hears Kari’s breath hitch when he pushes a little harder against the weight of it. He finds another memory to add to it, something from last season, and takes care of that as well.

Somewhere along the way he feels the weight of it all spill over into tears, and Kari makes a concerned noise, lifting up a hand, dragging his thumb through the hot trail of moisture on Trevor’s cheekbone.

“It’s okay,” Trevor says, breathless. “Happens sometimes.” It’s never happened before, but he doesn’t want Kari to feel any worse about this than he already does. There’s a lot of guilt coming through, but he’s just about taken care of all of it and doesn’t want to add any more.

The hurt and anger and sadness peel away, layer after layer, until finally there’s nothing left but the warmth of Kari’s hand on the side of his face and the intimate closeness between them.

And then there’s the sudden flash of something else, the same thing Trevor sensed before, buried underneath everything else, but it’s much closer to the surface now, and he feels blood rush hot into his face and his eyes open wide.

Desire. That’s what it is, that’s the deep, strong undercurrent that he felt before, it’s wanting, and Trevor jolts, rocks back onto his heels, hands dropping from the sides of Kari’s head.

Kari looks wide-eyed and spooked, and a wave of dread rolls off of him, dying out as he pulls back and stops giving.

“Sorry,” he blurts. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean for you to...you weren’t supposed to feel that.”

Trevor’s head is reeling, and not just from the effort of tamping down the emotion he’s just taken in. Kari wants him. He closes his eyes, tries to focus. He doesn’t know what to say, where to start, because he’s loved Kari for so long it just feels like it’s part of who he is now, it’s just a fact of life, but this is something he never saw coming and never even let himself consider.

“You…”

Kari looks better than he did; of course he does, because Trevor lifted the weight of all that other stuff off of him, and now he’s just...embarrassed, yeah, and there’s worry and fear there, but it’s all stuff Trevor can take away if he says the right things. He doesn’t even have to take anything into himself to do it, he can just...tell Kari the truth, and he can make those things right. But he can’t bring himself to say the words, doesn’t know what words to use.

“Is that why you never let me, why you wouldn’t-”

Kari nods. It all starts to make sense - why Kari wouldn’t really talk to Trevor about his ability the way Tyler will, why Kari always feels like he’s holding something back when Trevor grabs him and pulls him close on the ice after they win. Because he’s been keeping this secret, and he knows Trevor’s the one person on the team who might be able to figure it out without Kari saying a single word.

“Me too,” he blurts. “Kari, me too. It’s okay.”

Kari looks confused, and Trevor, for maybe the first time ever, wishes their roles were reversed, wishes he could show Kari the way he feels instead of struggling to find the words to tell him. He's never wanted to be anything different than he is before, but he thinks that there's no amount of money he wouldn't pay at that moment to be able to make Kari feel what he's feeling.

It takes him a few seconds to realize that people have been telling each other their feelings for thousands of years before anyone ever had the ability to do it any other way. When he thinks of it that way, he laughs.

Kari looks at him, worried.

"It's funny?"

"No. Yes. It's not funny that you...it's just funny that I didn't think about..."

"About?"

Trevor doesn't answer, he leans in and seals his mouth over Kari's. He's instantly rewarded by a surge of happy surprise from Kari, and a rush of hot desire. He isn't sure who that belongs to, it could be Kari's, but Kari slides his hand up under the back of Trevor's shirt and it could definitely just as easily be his own.

"Want to get off the floor?" Kari suggests, when Trevor pulls back a few seconds later. Trevor laughs breathlessly against his lips, and nods. He moves back so he's not sitting half in Kari's lap anymore, and Kari gets up onto the couch. Trevor climbs onto him, straddles him and kisses him hard. Kari slides his hand back under his shirt, resting his palm flat on Trevor's side.

Trevor's never slept with a giver before, but he doesn't know how he's done without it. Finding the places Kari likes to be touched is effortless, he doesn't have to go looking for the spikes of desire that mean he's found the right spot, he doesn't have to do anything but touch and be touched while Kari sends him all the signals he needs.

He mouths along Kari’s jaw, stubble rough against his lips; he kisses along the solid line of bone up to the base of Kari’s ear and bites down gently on his earlobe, dragging his tongue over the skin afterward. Keeping one hand in Kari’s hair, he sucks a mark into the soft skin of his neck, drawing in rush after rush of passion and disbelief. Kari’s moaning softly against the side of Trevor’s face now, and Trevor wants so fiercely that it’s almost frightening. He can’t remember the last time anything burned through him like this, the last time he wanted anything this badly.

His head is spinning and he feels like he’s drowning in the combined strength of what he wants and what Kari wants, which are very much the same thing.

“Wait,” Trevor gasps, leaning back. Saying wait doesn’t stop him from grinding down against Kari, from letting out a quiet moan at discovering that he can feel Kari, pressing up hard against his own erection through both of their sweatpants. “Ah, fuck,” he mutters. “We should...we need to slow down.”

Kari looks (and feels) puzzled.

“Why?” he asks, eyes dark and lips shining as he looks up at Trevor questioningly. It’s almost enough to chase off whatever restraint Trevor’s holding onto.

“This isn’t...I can’t do this as a one-time thing, not with you.”

Kari looks even more confused.

“Why is it only one time?” he asks, and Trevor closes his eyes.

Because givers don’t date takers, they love to interact with them, but in the end, in just about every situation Trevor’s ever seen, no one really dates takers but other takers. It’s not something anybody really talks about, but it’s sort of an accepted fact. Most people, givers and people without the ability at all, are put off by the idea of being with someone who knows what they’re feeling all the time, even when they aren’t asking for it. It’s never been something that bothers him, because he’s always been focused on other things and doing things for a night or a weekend was about all he could handle. He’s always figured that when the time comes, if and when he wants that, he’ll find another taker and settle down.

Kari is different, Kari is someone Trevor can’t imagine his life without.

He knows they need to talk this over, but he wants so badly to go back to losing himself in the idea and reality of Kari wanting him that it’s clouding his mind, keeping him from putting together rational sentences and thoughts.

“I don’t want one time, either.” Kari says, reaching up and touching Trevor’s lower lip with his thumb.

“Okay.” Trevor says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “Okay. But...bedroom.”

Trevor loses his shirt somewhere on the way to the bedroom and Kari comes up behind him, wraps his arms around Trevor’s waist and kisses his shoulder. Trevor shudders, takes a second or two to take in the longing Kari’s projecting with every touch, to let that linger, settle at the base of his spine, warm and encouraging. Then he turns around and tugs Kari’s shirt up over his head, leaning in to kiss him as soon as Kari’s face is clear of the fabric.

“How do you want to do this?” he asks. Kari’s impatient now, urgency tinging all the little things he’s feeling.

“Soon,” he says, grinning, and Trevor laughs because Kari’s smile is infectious and because it’s so good to see it, real and bright, in place of the melancholy that’s been hanging around him lately.

“So maybe I can just…” He reaches down, takes Kari in his hand through his pants. Kari moans, and Trevor feels something well up inside of him, something powerful and...almost like a feeling he’s taken in is flaring back up. That happens sometimes, if he’s careless, if he takes feelings and doesn’t deal with them immediately, they come back and keep him awake later.

This isn’t quite like that, but it’s the closest analogy Trevor can think of as Kari slips his fingers into the waistband of Trevor’s sweatpants, tugging down on them. Trevor lets him, moves his hips a little to help out as Kari works the pants down around his thighs.

Trevor leans back onto the bed, letting himself down onto his elbows slowly, watching Kari in front of him. Kari doesn’t strip off his pants right away, but he does climb onto the bed after him. He settles between Trevor’s legs, leans down and slides his mouth onto Trevor’s dick.

It’s not what Trevor was expecting at all; he was thinking they’d probably finish this with desperate, hurried hands, jerk each other off and then talk about things afterward. Kari moves onto him slowly, like he’s tasting every inch of him, and Trevor’s eyes flutter shut.

"Kari," he gasps out. Kari looks up at him, blue eyes round and eager, and it takes all the willpower Trevor has to keep from thrusting up into his mouth.

Not for the first time, Trevor wonders if maybe the abilities come to people in some small way because of their personalities. Kari gives a lot, he gives everything he can to the team and he’s certainly not thinking of himself now, he’s obviously completely focused on what Trevor wants and needs. He has both hands on Trevor’s hips, working his mouth down onto him as far as he can, then backing off a little. His eyes are bright and wet as he looks up.

Trevor hears himself gasping out Kari’s name, getting his hands in Kari’s hair again, and he can feel a familiar tightness gathering in his lower body. Kari’s sending him a constant stream of warm, eager affection now, and Trevor feels like it’s all settling in his chest, filling up his ribcage until there’s nowhere left for it to go. He’s taking and taking and he’s high on it, so high that he can’t focus on holding back, can’t keep his hips still, and he comes hard.

It feels like the wind is knocked out of him, like there’s a blinding flash of feeling and then suddenly it’s gone and Kari is sputtering and rocking back onto his knees, staring down at him in amazement.

Trevor gasps for breath, tries to quiet the thundering of blood in his ears.

“What was that?” Kari says, licking his lips frantically. Trevor, not even close to being clear of his post-orgasmic haze of happy confusion, frowns.

“Sorry, I...guess I got a little...I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Kari’s looking at him like he has three heads now.

“Dales,” he says, resting one hand on Trevor’s thigh and stroking his thumb over the skin softly. “You just...you gave me a lot right then.”

A lot of...is he commenting on how much Trevor came?

“It’s been a while,” he says, feeling a little self-conscious. Kari thinks about that for a second.

“That happened before?”

Is he serious?

“Uh, yeah, I’ve...I’m thirty-one years old, Kari.”

“You can just...give sometime, and take sometime?” Kari looks truly baffled, and Trevor suddenly feels it too, echoing off of Kari and in his own mind as well.

“I didn’t...what do you mean?”

Kari’s fingertips tighten into Trevor’s thigh.

“You were…” He seems to be struggling for words, and Trevor props himself up on his elbows.

“What are you trying to say?”

“You gave me things.” Kari says again. There’s a sharp edge of frustration that Trevor can feel now, but he’s starting to figure out what Kari’s saying. Except, well, that’s impossible, because Trevor is a taker, he always has been.

“Are you sure?”

“I give, you know, I know what it feels like. From both ends.”

“Oh,” Trevor says, suddenly at a loss for words. “Is that...can that…People can’t do both.”

Kari shrugs helplessly, and Trevor sits up all the way, putting his face in his hands, rubbing his forehead. He suddenly feels exhausted.

“Hey,” Kari says, sitting down next to him on the edge of the bed. “Look here.” Trevor looks over, and Kari rests his forehead against his, sending him a soft line of contentedness (which is weird, since Trevor suddenly remembers that he got off and Kari didn’t). “It’s not bad. We can figure it out.”

Trevor angles his head up and pulls Kari down for a kiss, which does a lot to settle them both.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Okay, but first, let me take care of you.”

**  
**


End file.
